


Small Onions

by Singing_Violin



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singing_Violin/pseuds/Singing_Violin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully angsts about the events at the end of "Small Potatoes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Onions

**Author's Note:**

> The X-Files characters and world are not mine.

Okay, so I was frightened. Baffled, taken by surprise, and downright scared. I know that isn't very professional of me, and believe me, I did try to hide it. But cut me a little slack: I was slightly drunk. And last time that happened...not being drunk, but having two of him at the same time...I ended up getting beaten up pretty badly, kidnapped, and held for ransom. Not to mention that the ransom in question was his sister! I don't think I'll ever live that one down. The look on his face when I asked him why he didn't tell me...

In any case, Eddie Van Blundht was no Bounty Hunter, but I think you'd agree that my slight panic at that moment was at least somewhat forgivable. Then, Mulder raced in and cuffed Eddie, alleviating some of my overreaction, but my heart was still pounding in my chest and I think he knew I wasn't "fine" like I told him when he asked. At least my nose wasn't bleeding at this particular moment.

True to his training, the first thing Mulder did was call the police. But then we were going to have a while to wait, so I resigned myself to having the intruder handcuffed to my couch until the cops arrived, undoubtedly slowly.

The next thing my partner did would have made me laugh if I hadn't been in such a state. He put his arm around my shoulder in an almost possessive way, and glared at Eddie. Then he led me away a bit to talk to me.

I was more drunk than I'd thought, and found myself slumping against his side just like when he'd rescued me from Brother Andrew years ago. But at least I wasn't drunk enough to get sick like I did then; I'll never live that down either. I think Mulder was afraid though, because he was eying my bathroom. "Are you sure you're okay, Scully?" he asked.

"Yes, Mulder. Really." I could tell he didn't believe me. I sighed, then decided on a small admission to appease him. "Actually, I'm a little shaken up. I should really go to bed..." That's when I noticed that he didn't seem altogether fine himself.

Pulling myself together, I asked him how he was. Being his typical wry self, he answered, "Well, not bad for being locked in the basement of a hospital for nearly 24 hours!" I could tell he blamed me. And I was too tired to deal with it. I shook my head.

"I'm really sorry, Mulder. I couldn't tell. I should have realized that he wasn't you, but I wanted so much for..." Uh oh. I shouldn't have said that. Realizing this, I stopped abruptly.

"What, Scully? What did you want?" Now I was really in trouble. I'd gotten him intrigued, and he wouldn't stop now. The alcohol had loosened my tongue and there was no way out. Suddenly I felt queasy. Maybe I was going to be sick after all...it would certainly end the conversation...

I bit it back though. Swallowing harshly, I tried to change the subject. "Mulder, what Eddie did was..." Hmm, what was I trying to say?

He shook his head at me. "It's okay, Scully. He was just trying to interfere in matters he didn't understand. I don't know if you noticed, but it's not like he really could weigh all the consequences, even if he were as bright as you or I...he simply doesn't know. Doesn't know all the complications."

I wasn't sure if my partner was really addressing the issue I was thinking about. Being drunk, I went ahead and asked. "Mulder, when I thought he was you, he commented that we never talk. Like, talk talk. Why don't we?" My eyes searched his for answers, which something told me would not be forthcoming in any pleasing form.

"I, uh..." He cleared his throat. "Well, we both know that if anything were to happen between us, uh, um, romantically, it could complicate our working relationship. I could never jeopardize that, Scully. You're the best partner I've ever had." So he was thinking what I was thinking...but why didn't that make me feel any better?

I nodded my head, and thankfully, a knock on the door sounded at that moment, saving me from further embarrassing myself in my inebriated state.

After we briefed the police and they took away our suspect, Mulder, who I was still leaning on, led me towards the bedroom. With my eyes at half-mast, I sat down on the bed, but, before undressing, I did have the presence of mind to kick him out. "Go home, Mulder," I said. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Damnit, his hand was still on my shoulder, and it felt so good! But I felt like my head was full of cobwebs.

"Yeah, Mulder, I'm sure. But I'm very tired...please go." I realized that my lips were saying one thing and my eyes were saying another, but luckily my partner knew enough to follow orders, because if he hadn't, I might have kicked his ass later, depending upon how I felt about his actions.

"All right, Scully. Sleep tight; don't let the bedbugs bite." He winked, and I rolled my eyes. Finally he removed his hand from my shoulder, only to move it to my face, where he gently caressed the side of my forehead for a few seconds before turning to leave. I wanted so much to kiss him at that moment, but I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for him to exit. Maybe I wasn't as drunk as I thought.

I would have lain awake all night thinking about him if I weren't so tired, but as it was, I practically flopped down on the bed asleep already, just barely managing to remove my shoes first. I'm sure I had some interesting dreams that night, though unfortunately, I can't remember them.

* * *

I can't believe Mulder talked me into going with him to the prison to visit Van Blundht, though I was glad I was there to overhear what Eddie was telling him, and doubly glad that Eddie didn't see me. I don't want to know what rude comments he would have directed at me if he'd had the opportunity.

Even as I assured Mulder he was not a loser, I couldn't look him in the eye. Surely he knew, from walking in on us, how much I wanted there to be an "us." I even know why I wanted it so badly now: the thought of dying doesn't scare me so much as dying alone. Though if I'd thought about it I would have realized that, "us" or not, Mulder would be there to hold me during my last moments in this world, with the same affection and care with which he held me in that Allentown hospital hallway just a few weeks ago.

Still, I wished he wouldn't be so stingy about the possibility of romance between us, and if I'd looked directly at him, I don't know whether I would have kissed him, smacked him, or just burst into tears. Surely he couldn't be worried about long-term consequences now. I'm not going to be around that long. Or is he still hoping for a miracle cure? I think I like that explanation better than the one that says the real reason is because he isn't attracted to me...if that were the case, he wouldn't have been so possessive that night in my living room, right?

I was still thinking about this last night when he called me, and I'd just had another nosebleed. Why does Mulder always call me late at night, and why am I always still awake when he does? At least lately.

I was feeling more vulnerable than usual, and he caught me sniffling, from the remnants of tears and the nosebleed. He asked whether I was okay. As usual, I told him I was fine.

He was angry. But I didn't want to admit either affliction to him, because I knew it would only make him worry. Except that he was worrying anyway. "What's wrong, Scully?" he asked. "Please tell me."

Quickly, I devised a satsifactory answer. "Nothing, Mulder. I was just chopping onions."

"At one AM, Scully?" Of course he didn't believe me.

"A snack," I lied. Why do I even bother? I'm a terrible liar; even Skinner can see right through me.

"Scully, can I come over?" he asked. I bit back a sob.

"I uh, didn't make enough for two," I told him.

"Scully, I need to talk to you."

"I'm sorry, Mulder." I had to get him off the phone before I really lost it. "Tomorrow, okay? I have to go to bed...umm, after I eat."

"Okay," he conceded, though I could tell he still didn't believe a word of it. "You'll be at home?"

"Yeah, Mulder. It's Saturday. Where else would I be?"

"Thought maybe you'd have a date," he joked. That made me smile a little through my tears.

"Nothing here but me, Mulder," I told him.

"And onions?" Typical.

"Yeah, Mulder. Me and small onions." I hung up.

And maybe, just maybe, he'll bring a bottle of wine and we can try again...


End file.
